


So Long As I's Got You

by InSpiteOfAllTheHeartaches



Series: A Small Life [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Married Couple, Married Sex, Smut, Victorian Attitudes, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InSpiteOfAllTheHeartaches/pseuds/InSpiteOfAllTheHeartaches
Summary: A smutty excerpt from my multi-chapter fic 'A Small Life'. Otherwise known as the Jack/Katherine wedding night content we all desperately need.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer
Series: A Small Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119809
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	So Long As I's Got You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a smutty excerpt from my longer story A Small Life, in order to keep people going until we get to the section of the fic where this actually occurs. I also know some people aren't comfortable reading explicit material, so thought I'd post it separately. Basically, all you need to know is that this is Jack and Katherine's first time on their wedding night. Enjoy, and please leave a comment, as I'm pretty new to writing this kind of thing.

"I's been thinkin' 'bout this all day," Jack rumbles, his mouth close enough to her ear that she can feel his warm breath fanning across her skin, his tone all low and dark and heavy-accented in the way that makes her stomach turn inside out, "ever since you's walked down that aisle, lookin' like some type o' angel. _All day,_ Katherine."

He sounds almost desperate, needy somehow, in a way that she can barely bring herself to meet his eyes. But she forces herself to, clamping down on the fizzing in her belly and reminding herself that this is her Jack, the one who, despite being a little rough around the edges, is kind and gentle and patient. So she looks up at him and feels herself smile as she sees the familiar spark in his eyes. He's still holding her hand from where he's helped her out of the carriage; she gives his hand a quick, meaningful squeeze, before dropping it and turning around to thank the driver. The elderly driver doffs his cap and then clicks his tongue for the carriage to begin drawing away.

They both turn then, looking up at the red brick house with the white-washed windows they've painted themselves, tall and thin, sandwiched in the middle of a terrace. Theirs. Their house. Together. Jack grabs her hand and looks down at her, barely suppressing his signature grin, before tugging her up the path to their front door, all the while fishing around inside his suit jacket for the keys.

Katherine shifts awkwardly, unsure of how to behave as he tries, with shaking hands, to fit the key into the lock. It's a full thirty seconds before she hears the lock click open and she spends every one of them pressing her lips together to suppress a sarcastic remark. _This is Jack's night,_ she reminds herself, and he had made the wedding beautiful for her. He'd been on his absolute best behaviour and had somehow managed to charm even the most snobbish of her family members. And how could he not? His hair had been neatly combed during the service that morning, but his curls were now askew, back in their usual untameable, adorable mass and his tie was pulled loose around his neck, the collar of his shirt slightly open. Who could resist him when he looked like that, talking animatedly with fingers flying across a thousand invisible canvases and his eyes crinkling with warm smiles. But he was all hers, like this, relaxed and delicious.

When he doesn't move, she reaches for the door handle, ready to let herself into their new home. Jack's hand flies out to stop her and she wonders momentarily whether she's already managed to screw up. But then Jack has hold of her through her layers of petticoats and he sweeps her up into his arms and carries her over the threshold. It's a difficult manoeuvre; he has to push the handle down with his elbow and back himself in to prevent smacking her head against the doorframe. His tongue is stuck out in concentration throughout the whole endeavour and they're both laughing quietly by the time he's kicked the door closed behind them with his foot.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Kelly." He sets her down carefully and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"I still think Mr. Plumber would have been better." She smiles into the lapel of his jacket.

"You would." He snorts, breaking away from her, eyes alight and anticipatory fingers fluttering by his sides in the same way they do when he's about to start work on a fresh canvas. He looks positively gleeful.

Katherine suddenly feels immensely self-conscious, dropping her eyes and searching for somewhere to put the little bouquet of flowers she's been toting around all day. There's a vase on top of the side table in the hallway, so she picks it up and mumbles something about putting them in water. Jack follows after her like a mildly confused lost puppy.

The kitchen is small and at the back of the house. It's strange for her, being in a kitchen. The last time she was in the one at home was when she was a child, playing hide and seek in amongst the barrels and wooden tables, tugging at the maids' skirts and stealing morsels from the fingers of the indulgent cook. Katherine wishes she was back there, amongst the herbs hanging up to dry, with the steam from a thousand iron pans on top of the enormous black range filling the air, fresh biscuits cooling on the sideboard.

She stands at the sink, cold water filling the vase, and feels Jack come up behind her and wrap his arms, strong and warm, around her middle, nuzzling the nape of her neck. She knows two things with instant clarity. The first, that someone could offer her the moon and she wouldn't trade it for being stood with the man loves in the house they share. The second, that she's scared out of her wits. She sets the vase down in the sink and spins around in his arms. Jack pulls back, looking mildly alarmed.

"I have no clue what I'm doing." She states with finality.

"Okay…" Jack remains puzzled.

"I haven't done this before."

"I should hope there wasn't another husband lurking somewhere." He laughs.

"Jack-" Katherine hisses, gesturing uncomfortably between them, "I mean I haven't done… this before."

"Well, I know that, Katherine."

"I know, but… you have." She falters, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I has. Is that a problem?" Jack asks, dropping his arms from around her waist and folding them across his chest. Bit late, he thinks.

"No, I just – normally I can do anything I set my mind to but I don't- I couldn't bear to disappoint you." Katherine whispers the last few words.

"Oh, darlin', you won't disappoint me. You couldn't." Jack relaxes.

"But what if I do?"

"You won't." He says emphatically, taking both of her hands in his. "Ace. I love you. But if you don't wanna do this – we don't hafta."

"No!" Jack raises an eyebrow at her outburst. "No, I do, I just – I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"I don't want to mess it up. I don't want to make a fool of myself. I don't want it to hurt."

"You won't, you won't, and it won't. Believe me, I's gonna make sure of that." He grins, but there's a softness to it, a crinkling around his eyes.

"Mother said it would hurt – but mother said I also shouldn't speak to you about it… oh, damn it all." Katherine throws her hands up in the air and turns away from him, hiding her face.

"Hey, hey, c'mon." Jack whispers, pulling her back to face him and tugging her close, letting her bury her face in his chest. "You need to ignore everythin' your mother said, y'hear me? God knows I don't want'a end up like your father." She laughs quietly into his chest at that and Jack grins in response, resting his chin on the top of her head. "You trust me, don'cha?" She nods, face still hidden. "Then let me take care o'you, okay? An' if you wants to stop, you jus' says the word."

"Okay." She nods, slightly tearful. "I'm – I'm sorry, this wasn't how I wanted our marriage to start-"

"It don't matter, Ace. We's got the rest o' our lives to get this right."

Jack smiles and takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning down to brush a kiss across her lips. _Okay Plumber – wait, Kelly,_ Katherine thinks to herself, changing the surname with no small amount of glee, _this is something you can do._ So she kisses him back, deep and long and languid, and somewhere along the line he gets the message and hooks his hands around the backs of her thighs and starts carrying her toward the stairs, her legs wrapped around him like some sort of monkey. He almost falls over when he starts trying to get them upstairs and they find themselves laughing into one another's mouths, stumbling against the banister and the wall, fingers tugging at buttons. Jack feels half mad with it, with the waiting, the wanting, with her.

By the time they get into the bedroom, _their_ bedroom, Katherine has half the buttons on his dress shirt undone and has slipped one hand inside, warm fingers tugging gently at his undershirt. There's a soft whoomph as he sets her down on the bed, but Jack doesn't break away, not even for a moment, crawling over her and kissing down the side of her neck, kissing and biting and worrying the skin there in the way he's learned makes her keen against him. When she starts shoving his suit jacket down and off his shoulders, he's hardly going to say no. He rolls his broad shoulders obligingly and flings it off somewhere to his right, never breaking contact with her skin, burying his nose against it and breathing in her perfume. It's a different one to usual, something muskier, darker, more womanly, rather than her usual girlishly floral scent. It makes him want to buck his hips into the mattress, but he doesn't want to scare her, so he holds himself back. He'll be damned if he ruins this through a lack of self-control.

And then she yelps. Jack pulls back like he's been burned, hovering over her, propped up on his elbows and searching her face, cursing himself.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, sorry," Katherine blushes, watching as Jack's shoulders relax just a fraction, "my hairpin, it – stabbed me."

Jack looks at her for a moment, long and hard, and then bursts out laughing, rolling off her and laying down by her side. In one fluid movement, he takes her hand and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle.

"Go on," he chuckles, voice low and rumbling, "you'd best take 'em out."

He leads his flushed wife – _wife!_ – over to the vanity and sits her down in front of the mirror, trying to ignore the way that the sight of her bee-stung lips makes his cock twitch in his pants. Brushing her hands away, he stands behind her and removes each pin more delicately than Katherine would have thought possible with his calloused fingers, placing them in a neat pile on the polished surface of the vanity. His hands in her hair, Katherine closes her eyes and leans her head back, allowing it to rest against the muscles of Jack's stomach. The sight of her, so trusting and vulnerable, allowing him, barely more than a street urchin, to touch her glossy hair and porcelain skin – it does something to him.

She opens her eyes when he's done, hair cascading down, but Jack just sweeps her hair to one side and gets down on his knees to start work on the buttons at the back of her dress. The little pearl buttons are fiddly and Jack feels as though his fumbling fingers will snap one of their fastenings before he's done. When he is done, Katherine stands and the dress slides off, white chiffon puddling around her feet, clothed in white silk stockings. She goes to turn around, unable to meet the eyes of her unclothed reflection, but Jack prevents her, fiddling once again with the fripperies of women's undergarments as he unties her corset.

It's only when that comes off that she hears Jack's sharp intake of breath. So. It had been a good choice then. She'd been embarrassed to go shopping with Medda for such things, but it turns out she really was the expert.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Ace. Look at you." Jack breathes and she finally manages to raise her eyes to her own reflection. _Well then._

It was technically a chemise, but it could barely be called that. It was a single layer of delicate white lace, so thin it was practically see-through. She had hated it in the store, condemned its lack of practicality and pointed out that one or two good washes and it would be falling to pieces. It was only when Medda suggested it wasn't really meant to be worn more than once, that she'd understood its implications. Jack's reaction, at least, gave her a little courage.

"Is this all for me?" He asks, voice quiet and prayerful, hands tentatively skimming down her sides.

"Who else would it be for?" Katherine asks, aiming for a mocking tone but hitting somewhere around a nervous giggle. "Oscar Delancey?"

Jack actually growls at that and squeezes her hips possessively.

"I don't want you sayin' no other man's name in this bedroom, y'hear?" Katherine nods, ducking her head and trying to avoid thinking about the rush of heat which Jack's low, angry tone has pooling in her stomach. "S'not nice. 'Specially when it's that scabber."

They are quiet for a moment, looking at one another.

"It seems unfair that you're wearing so much clothing." Katherine musters, inwardly disappointed that her voice was barely above a whisper, trying to pacify her husband. Jack chuckles behind her, indicating either her success or that he wasn't actually that angry at all, and holds out his hand to help her step out of the dress.

"It does, a little, doesn't it." He smiles, leading her over to the bed and gesturing for her to sit down.

He remains standing and Katherine watches, hands folded demurely in her lap, as he finishes off the job she started earlier and unbuttons his dress shirt, pulling his tie off, then shrugging off the white shirt, then pulling the undershirt off over his head. Katherine stares. She's seen Jack without his shirt before of course, occasionally wandering around the lodgehouse on hot days or when he's been in injured or sick. This is different now though. Now she has permission to look. She does, her eyes raking over her husband, all lean muscle and strength and a smattering of dark hair. In the low light of the oil lamp, his scars have all but disappeared, leaving him fresh and all hers.

"Like what you see, Mrs. Kelly?" Jack smirks, relishing the way the title feels on his tongue, sweet and smooth like honey.

Katherine's blush returns and she lowers her eyes, fiddling with the top of her right stocking, readying herself to roll it down.

"Whoa." Jack reaches out to stop her before dropping to his knees and gently rolling her stocking down himself. "I's gon' unwrap you myself, thank you very much."

"Unwrap me?" She laughs, the noise bursting from her chest. "I'm not a present, Jack."

"You's a gift, though." Jack grins up at her, his eyes alight. "Best weddin' gift I's coulda asked for."

He works her other stocking down her leg, then pulls off his own shoes and socks. Then he stops, looks up at her, half wondering, half analytical.

"How much do you know?" He asks, his face thoughtful.

"A little." Katherine blushes. "I know that you…" she trails off, but Jack nods encouragingly up at her so she manages to blurt out, "I know that you're supposed to put yourself – to put your, well – inside me."

"Okay." Jack nods, his face unreadable. Katherine suddenly feels like the most ignorant woman on the planet and starts fighting to get her words out, lest Jack think her a complete fool.

"I know that it's supposed to hurt the first time. I know I'm supposed to lie still and let you do what you like. I know it can make a child. Mother said that if I did what you told me and if I tried to please you that it'd go by quite quickly." Katherine sees Jack's hands, previously rubbing gentle circles on her knees, squeeze into fists. Worry flares inside of her, dousing the flare of arousal deep in her stomach. "I'm sorry – did I-"

"No, no, darlin'," Jack sighs, unclenching his fists and leaning up to kiss her gently, cupping her face, "I's not angry at you. I jus'… this ain't about you pleasin' me. I wants you to… enjoy yourself. Okay? An' I's gonna make damn sure you do. You's just gotta… trust me. Can you do that for me, Ace?" She nods slowly. "Good." He rubs his hands together, warming them. "Remember, sweetheart, you jus' say the word and we'll stop. Okay?" She nods again.

With gentle pressure, Jack parts her knees, spreading her legs for him where she's sat on the edge of the bed. Her feet don't quite reach the floor and it reminds him that whilst she's the strongest woman he's ever known, god knows that he's never managed to get one over on her, she's also smaller than him. Delicate. With trembling fingers, he pushes up the hem of her chemise. He groans and rests his forehead against her thigh, fighting not to spend himself right then and there at the sight of her, all pink and pressed together and private.

He kisses his way up her thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. Katherine can't look away, watching his curly head work its way closer to where there's a strange sort of warmth coiled between her legs. She gasps when she feels a single, calloused finger brush against her centre, feather light. Jack looks up, questioning, trying to hold himself together, his finger stroking slowly across her vellum skin, inhaling the scent of her. She smells sharper, down here, like salt and citrus.

"Sweetheart, I's goin' to kiss you now. Is that okay?" _Kissing,_ Katherine thinks, _I can do that. Come on Katherine, you know this one._ She nods. She's afraid that if she tries to speak, her words will be replaced with whimpers.

Jack surges forward then and presses his mouth to that place between her legs. She flops back on the bed, unable to remain upright; Jack is unconcerned. He wonders quite how he's gone his entire life up to this point without being able to do this. He wants to stay down here for the rest of his life, devouring her like he's the street rat he used to be. He's starving and she's the most beautiful banquet he's ever tasted. He licks and sucks and swirls his tongue around a little bundle of nerves above her entrance, above – the thought thrills him - where he's going to enter her tonight. A whimper from above him tells him he's doing something right, so he pushes a crooked index finger into her up to the first knuckle. He can feel the resistance of her, the little wisp of skin that tells him he's the first to have this privilege, the first to taste her. He feels like the luckiest man alive. He rubs at her and sucks, not quite sure what he's doing but repeating the things that make her squirm and whine until she's bucking against his mouth, rolling her hips in search of some unknown friction. He removes his finger and hears her whine before he replaces it with his tongue, lapping at her in a way that makes her twist beneath the hands which are now pinning her hips to the bed. His tongue aches and his ears are ringing from where she's squeezing her thighs on either side of his head. He loves it.

He shucks her right leg over his shoulder, opening her up nicely, and feels a rush of wetness across his tongue, her muscles fluttering, her legs shaking. She's close to something, though he's not sure quite what, though he wonders if it's the same thing that the working girls down at the docks whisper about when they think the sailors can't hear them. She seemed to like when he sucked on that little nub, so he does it again, and then she's crying out, saying his name over and over, like a litany. Jack wonders if he'll get to hear her say his name like that for the rest of his life. He hopes so; he hopes that this is what being a husband is, lapping up the wetness dripping down her thighs whilst she whimpers his name.

He only stops when she reaches down to push his head away, twisting out of his grip. Jack gently removes her leg from his shoulder, then kisses his way up her body, helping to position her on the bed, propped up against pillows, before he rolls himself on top of her to take care of her properly.

"How you doin' there, Ace?" He asks, brushing a curl away from her forehead and trying to keep the smugness out of his voice.

"What was that?" She asks, but before he can answer, she opens her mouth again. "Is it always like that?"

"No, sweetheart," Jack laughs, then leans down to kiss her gently, "sometimes it's even better."

Katherine can taste herself on his lips, an odd but not entirely unpleasant flavour bursting across her tongue. She knows, distantly, that she should be worried about hygiene. She can't quite bring herself to care. It all just feels so intense, like she's been set alight in the best way possible. They stay like that for a while, kissing lazily, until a blissed-out Katherine has returned to her senses a little bit more.

"I'm sorry," she whispers against his neck, as Jack worries the neckline of her chemise between his teeth, "I don't know what you must think of me."

"What are you on about?" Jack pulls back.

"Acting so… wanton. The sounds I was making –"

"Oh, Katherine." Jack shakes his head, smiling. "Nothin' makes me happier than hearin' you doin' that. Please don't stop. You don't hafta be ashamed o' anything what happens in here. This is jus' us. Nobody else." She looks at him, searching his eyes.

"Okay." She smiles back and shifts underneath him. In the process she jostles Jack a little and he groans. "Did I hurt you?" She asks, her eyes widening in alarm from their previously hooded state.

"No, darlin'," Jack moans, "quite the opposite." He shifts this time and she can feel it, a bulge pressing into her hip. _Oh. Okay then._

"I want to see it." She blurts out. Jack bursts out laughing.

"The hell has I got myself into, marryin' a journalist?" Katherine blushes, but she's feeling bold now, high off… whatever it was Jack has just done to her.

"I'll take off mine if you'll take off yours." She removes her hand from where it's been stroking up and down his back and spits into her hand, offering it out for him to shake. Jack just looks at her and she wonders whether she's taken it too far, whether she's strayed into the realm of absurdity.

But then Jack takes her hand and places several wet kisses along her palm before flipping them over. She's straddling him now and while he's pulling the lace chemise over her head, she's fiddling with the buttons on his trousers. Katherine feels half-mad with it, and it only gets better when Jack groans at the sight of her, hands coming up to drag rough thumbs over pebbled nipples. He promptly drops them again when she finally manages to dip her hand below his waistband and pull him out.

"Katherine, angel," Jack groans, dropping his head back onto the pillows and closing his eyes, desperately trying to think about anything except her warm hands wrapped around him, "are you tryin' to kill me?"

"Isn't this how you want to go, though?" Katherine grins down at him, skimming her thumb across the smooth bell at the top of his length.

Having Jack in front of her, spread out for her like this, all lean and strong and hers, reduced to putty in her hands, it makes her feel more confident than she ever has before. Still though, despite trying to read up on what her mother described as her 'marital duties' beforehand, she hadn't quite expected this. She looks down at him, wrapping one hand around his length and realising, with no small amount of concern despite the arousal between her thighs, that her fingers don't meet around him. She wonders if he will fit.

"Fuck, yes." Jack responds, grabbing her and flipping them over, taking control once again. For once in her life, she's happy to relinquish control, laying beneath him and closing her eyes, feeling the way that his fingers skim, feather-light, over her soft skin.

It's only once she's begun to squirm, rolling her hips in search of something she's not quite sure of, too sensitive to the feel of the warmth of him laying against her thigh, that he pulls back.

"May I-" he starts, nervousness creeping into his tone for the first time throughout this whole encounter.

"Yes, Jack," she says, a little desperate, "please, just-"

"Okay, okay!" He chuckles, reaching down between them, searching for the secret place where they're going to meet and guiding himself inside her.

Jack curses as his head slips inside her, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder as he eases in. Glancing up at her, closed eyes and worried expression, he cants his hips just slightly, breaching her properly. Her mouth drops open and before he can even think about it he brings his hand up, skimming over her bottom lip with his thumb. He feels her shudder beneath him and takes the opportunity to press into her a little more. The slowness of his pace is torturous, but he doesn't know exactly how much he's going to be able to hold on once they get going and he'll be damned if he hurts her. It's difficult though. He's rock hard and knows that if he just moves a hair the wrong way, this whole thing will be over before it's even properly begun. She's just so tight, like a beautiful vice around him, warm and wet and inviting. He wonders, distantly, if he's in heaven, but then decides only hell would be this hot and tight. Only hell would be this much fun.

Jack can't believe his luck – this woman, this heiress, has not only given him her love, her kiss, her trust, and now her virginity? Jack doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but he's not complaining. When he's fully seated inside her, he looks down, at her, trying not pant like some sort of sheepdog.

"Ace, darlin', sweetheart, is I hurtin' you?"

"No, no," she opens her eyes slowly, looking up at him and blinking; the trust in her eyes nearly undoes him, "it just feels… odd." She shifts a fraction on him and they both sigh at the unexpected jolt of pleasure. "I think… I think you could move now. If you'd like to, that is." She tacks the end of the sentence on hurriedly, biting her lip.

"Sure." Jack nods, then slowly begins to pump in and out of her, fighting the urge to hold her hips down and pound into her.

It's slick and good, their bodies connecting in these new ways, and Jack keeps hitting a spot inside her that makes her see stars. She breathes out words like _faster_ and _harder_ and he complies, angling his hips just so. It's sore, that much is undeniable, but it's a pleasant sort of soreness, a kind that Katherine feels as though she could get used to.

Jack makes the mistake of looking down at where he disappears inside her and almost spends himself, looking at the way he's stretching her, the way she's parted for him, the way she's letting him into her in the most intimate way possible.

He flicks his eyes back up to her face and kisses her with gusto, trying to think about anything other than how fucking good this feels because he knows if he thinks about it for too long then he won't last. Katherine wraps her arms around his neck, fingers carding through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, clutching at the strands whenever he does something particularly delicious. He slides a hand under her thigh and wraps her leg around him too, changing the angle to something she can hardly stand.

And then he slips a hand down between them to where she's parted for him and pinches at that little nub just above where he's still sliding in and out of her with a rhythm as unforgiving as a stormy tide, and it's all over for Katherine. She careers over an edge she hadn't even seen coming for the second time that night, crying out his name as she does so.

She tries to turn her head to the side, tries to evade Jack's intense, slightly open-mouthed stare, but he catches her chin and holds her gaze as, with a few more erratic thrusts, he loses himself inside of her.

Despite almost blacking out from it, the aftermath of his climax thrumming through his veins, Jack manages to retain enough presence of mind not to slump on top of Katherine. Slipping out of her, and feeling extremely smug about the little hollow whine she lets out when he does, he rolls them over, letting Katherine sprawl across his chest like spoils of war, heaving out her little hiccupping breaths.

He's almost about to doze off when she speaks.

"Can we do that again tomorrow, please?" Katherine asks, looking up at him with a smirk that doesn't match the innocence in her eyes as she props her chin on his chest. Jack collapses back against the pillow with a smile, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her.

"Yes, Katherine. We's gon' do that again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Hell, I don't wanta do anythin' else for the rest o' my life."

"That might be a problem in terms of going to work." Katherine giggles, and hell if it isn't the most adorable thing he's ever heard.

"Screw work." Jack says, giving her a soft, affectionate kiss. "I don't need nothin' so long as I's got you."


End file.
